I watch you sleep,
as the sun wakes up.
You slumber,
as songbirds,
chirp themselves,
awake.
Is it odd,
if I count,
the eyelashes,
that fall on your cheek?
Wishful thinking,
for time to pause,
even just for a moment.
Love,
Me.

I could,
send this letter,
but you’d never read it.
Instead,
I will write it,
and sweep it,
beneath the carpet.
Maybe you know,
possibly you don’t,
I could never tell,
even if I wanted.
Why is life,
so unfair,
leaving bitterness,
on my tongue?
I desire,
to know,
the answer.
Love,
Me.

Why is it,
that I feel as if,
I’m drowning?
When I am,
in fact floating,
above my own head?
My lungs,
filling with cotton,
a soft,
yet abrasive,
sadness.
It holds me,
tightly squeezing,
comfort,
in depression.
I’m choking,
not on tears,
but sea water,
instead.

I saw the moon,
golden through the clouds.
Reminding me,
of the time I once loved you,
and you poisoned my soul.
You drained me dry,
as I appeared a fool.

I’m no good,
a rotten piece of flesh.
My nails,
laced with poison,
and I like to watch you choke.
I press hard,
until skin breaks,
making crimson beads,
down your neck.
You wither,
nonexistent,
and I sweep up leftovers,
under the carpet.

The surface,
of my heart,
has cracked.
Not quite broken,
not close enough,
to perfection.
An empty vessel,
to be filled to the brim,
with restitution.
This useless,
beating *****,
bleeds heavily,
of glowing liquid.
The evidence,
of my struggle,
it's the light,
in my tunnel vision,
of emotions.
I'm drowning,
while breathing,
free falling,
in an empty sky.

I’m considered,
a dog,
chasing its,
own tail,
dim-witted,
unappreciated,
of its,
own efforts.
Probably because,
it’s going up,
an escalator,
going down,
you may,
never make it.
But for some reason,
I’m pushing on,
climbing these stairs,
that seem to be,
working full force,
against me,
but ****,
I’m going to,
make it.